


A curious Encounter

by kaiserwilhelmthestupid



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c.
Genre: 2020s, American History, Future Fic, Help, Oh My God, Politics, Self-Insert, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-16 05:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiserwilhelmthestupid/pseuds/kaiserwilhelmthestupid
Summary: The newest first family settle into the White House on inauguration day... and the daughter and some friends discover an unexpected surprise...





	1. Chapter 1

At 11 at night, Poppy pondered in her sizeable white house bedroom. Her father just won the election of 2020, beating out the grossly unpopular previous president, Donald J Trump. Her lifelong dream of seeing the White House's full glory was fulfilled. She had spent the day exploring every nook and cranny of the Georgian mansion. Staring at every painting, admiring every room. Her friends from across the pond, Emily and Bea, had flew all this way to visit her father's inauguration and congratulate both her and her father, as Poppy had done mountain loads of work to help her fathers campaign, from public appearances to designing campaign posters. It had been exhausting, yet amazingly rewarding to finally see the FDR portrait in the flesh. Emily and Bea, after many hours of debate and compromises, managed to stay the night at the white house in nearby rooms. Poppy was slowly descending into a deep sleep, until a chill breeze blew past her cheek, causing her to jolt awake.  
"W...who's there?" She called out to the empty room, taking no caution of waking others up. She froze and went pale as she heard the faint sound of chatting outside of her thick oak doors. Poppy crept out of her silk sheets, making careful work not to step on a creaky floorboard, and pressed her ear lightly against the door.  
"Have you seen the new president? What do you think Ike?"  
"He's ok, but I almost fell asleep listening to his speech, he dragged on for ages, just like Harrison!"  
The two men chuckled, until a third voice chimed in.  
"Will you two ever stop joking about my speech?"  
"Never," the man replied. Poppy instantaneously recognised the voice. Her mouth gaped open. It couldn't be... could it?  
Her train of thought was cut short though, as a shrill shriek from Emily's room shattered the silence.  
Without thinking twice, Poppy rushed out of her room and stumbled towards Emily's room, bursting through the door to spot Emily clutching her bedsheets as a translucent figure loomed over her. With Poppy's surprise entrance both Emily and the ghostly man whipped their heads towards her, where she finally managed to figure out who the person was. It was none other than Richard Nixon, a guy she pretty sure should be dead.  
Poppy stood there dumbfounded at the dead president, who looked at her with an annoyed, yet accepting look.  
"Before you ask, little girl, yes I am Richard Nixon and no, I won't say 'I am not a crook' for you."  
Emily choked out a sentence, terrified of the apparition, yet still curious, "how... are you alive?"  
"Well I'm clearly not alive girl, unless you know any translucent floating people in your life," Poppy snickered quietly, yet still Nixon managed to hear it behind his ungodly sized joules, "what do you have to say for yourself then girl? Huh? Well speak up! Have something to criticise, say it to my face. Truly this generation has no respect."  
Emily piped up, "don't speak to her like that! That is the president's daughter! Why don't you just go away and hide your tapes Dick?"  
Nixon was taken aback by her blatant mocking, and was ready to give her a piece of his mind, until an obnoxiously loud laugh was heard from Bea's room. Nixon sighed and rubbed his temple, "do those two ever shut up? They've been making fun of me for at least half an hour." Emily tossed away her bedsheets and walked through Nixon towards Poppy. Nixon flushed a hot red in anger at her, "don't walk through me! Have a little respect girl!"  
Emily briefly gave him the middle finger as she left the room with Poppy, who was massively confused and wanted answers.  
"Ok, what the hell is going on, why was Nixon there, why did I hear two voices making fun of my dad and William Henry Harrison, and how the hell has no one noticed us?! I know the inauguration ball is loud, but come on..."  
Emily shrugged dismissively, "hell if I know, I kinda just felt a cold breeze around me, woke up and saw Richard Nixon pacing around muttering empty threats to himself."  
Poppy decided to knock on Bea's door instead of kicking it down like last time...  
"Will Bobby be joining us?"  
"Bobby tends to stay in the attorney general office, yet around this time he likes to walk around and look at the paintings, we might catch him later."  
The conversation came to a standstill as Poppy and Emily entered the room to see Bea sitting with yet another translucent man, and if she knew bea, that ghost was most likely John F. Kennedy.  
"Oh hey Poppy! Emily! Guess who I met!" She dramatically gestured towards JFK, who nodded politely in greeting, " I guess from the arguing in Emily's room, that you've met Dick."  
"None other than," Emily sighed.  
JFK laughed heartily, "you've taken our presence far better than other people who've been here, for example..."  
A second ghost interrupted JFK, "Jimmy Carter nearly fell out of his oval office chair when he spot Thomas Jefferson napping on the couch!" Poppy's eyes widened at the sight of the new ghost, who just happened to be her favourite president, Franklin D. Roosevelt.  
"Come on Franklin," JFK whined, "you always get to tell the funny stories, let me talk for once!"  
"Oh hush pretty boy, you had your chance during your presidency, but you blew it, your head, to be precise!"  
Poppy, Emily and Bea all burst out laughing at FDR's joke, as JFK pouted like George H.W. Bush forced to eat his broccoli.  
Just as JFK was going to spit out harsh rebuttle, loud disciplining came into the room as The great George Washington held Nixon by the ear like an angry mother.  
"Now Dick, don't you have something to say to our guest here?" He pointed at Emily, who was clearly stifling a laugh.  
Nixon shuffled his feet and sheepishly glanced at Emily, "I'm sorry for not treating you, a lady and guest, with manners to make you feel welcome. I hope you accept my apology."  
Washington gazed at Emily expectantly, who's face was red from holding in her hysterics, "I.... pfft... accept your apology President Nixon."  
Washington let Nixon's ear go and gave a knowing, wise grin to the three girls giggling at Nixon's crimson face.  
"Hello young ladies, my name is Washington, George Washington, I hail from Virginia and hope you enjoy your stay here at the white house." Washington bent down to kiss each girls hand.  
"How about you girls meet us all? I command all the ghosts in these walls, so we can just retire to the attorney general's office. I know that's Bobby's favourite and he does feel quite left out, as he is the only non-president haunting this house..." He gave a sympathetic look to JFK, yet continued with his orderly voice, "Well I'll call them now, see you soon girls!" Washington let out a puft of smoke, and a large, gold-tipped sword manifested in his hand. With much precision, he sheathed the sword, taking extra care to make the longest noise possible. Then, with a flash of blinding light, Washington, JFK, FDR and Nixon all disappeared. Poppy was woozy, a mixture of excitement, disbelief, tiredness and amazement, that she could meet these men. Emily felt the same, yet her blood was still pumping fast from her argument with Nixon, which she seemed to take endless joy from. Bea was just glad to be there.  
The three girls, in a slight state of shock, strided down the corridor. Poppy already knew where the office was from the days antics. It wasn't until they were almost there they felt a frigid breeze flow through them, and realised they bumped into a ghost.  
"Oh, sorry... shouldn't you be at the attorney generals office?" Poppy asked, confused, "it looked like Washington controlled all the ghosts with that sword of his."  
The droopy eyes of Bobby Kennedy stared back at them, flashing the famous Kennedy smile at them, "Washington only controls the presidents..." He sighed, "Well I did notice no one was around, I assumed he was holding another one of his trademark debate nights, but it looks like it's to celebrate your arrival, and your fairly quick understanding of our precesnce."  
"Will you be at the celebration?" Emily quiered.  
Bobby shook his head, "I'm afraid those big gatherings aren't my cup of tea..."  
Bea looked surprised, and cut into the conversation, " please come with us, Mr Kennedy! I'm a huge fan and would love if you could join us," She smiled brightly and Bobby returned the grin,  
"Well, I guess this once can't hurt..."  
Bobby led the girls to the attorney general's office as a wave of overlapping arguments exploded the girls eardrums.  
"SILENCE!" An authorative voice rung out, quieting the ruckus. The voice belonging to Washington, obviously, as he climbed on top of the desk,  
"My fellow apparitions!" John Adams whispered to Jefferson, "I wish he'd stop calling us that," That comment led to a few snickers. Washington continued, "we are gathered here today to give a warm welcome to our new inhabitants! Poppy, Emily and Bea!" Cheers bellowed across the office as Abraham Lincoln picked up the girls one by one onto the desk to join Washington.  
"Thank you Mr Lincoln!" They thanked. He smiled warmly in welcome, "good luck ladies, I see much potential in you, and you know honest Abe never lies."  
"Now ladies, would you like to make a statement?" All eyes fell on the girls, even Lyndon B. Johnson and Richard Nixon were listening, which isn't something they do often.  
"Uhm..." Poppy began, at lost for words, "I'd like to thank you all for being so welcoming-" Bea chimed in unexpectedly, "yeah we kinda though you would've made at least one racist comment by now..." as she squinted her eyes at Woodrow Wilson, who returned the favour.  
Poppy cleared her throat and elbowed Bea in the ribs, "Anyway... we are all glad that you like us-" Emily interrupted, "well, some of them like us..." shooting a stare at Nixon, who looked very displeased at her statement.  
Poppy kicked them both in the shins and carried on, a bit frustrated now, "ANYWAY thank you Mr Presidents for being so welcoming, even if we don't all get along immediately, I hope we can build our relationships and become better acquainted. Thank you." She tugged both her friends off the desk and pulled them as far away from Nixon and Wilson as possible, next to Bobby, who has hardly opened his mouth since entering the room. Washington gave out a hearty chuckle and greeted the dead presidents with a conclusive speech, "Aren't they such fine ladies? Thank you Emily, Poppy and Bea for joining us tonight. Please! If you see us in the corridor at night don't be afraid to engage with us, unless it's Mr Coolidge, who'd prefer to not say much ever!" A few polite laughs came from the audience as Calvin Coolidge stood awkwardly in the corner, "we will see you later ladies!"  
And with a bright flash of light and sheathing of sword, they were gone.  
"Damn, that was quite the something," Emily stood there dumbfounded.  
"I know right! I knew Bobby's eyes were droopy, but come on!" Emily pushed Bea playfully for going on her antics again.  
"I hope we get to see them again," Poppy sighed.  
"I'm sure we will Poppy, it's only 11:30, we should be able to catch the sometime later," Bea reassured her friend.  
Poppy grinned wide, with a mischievous glint in her eye, "Well they seem nice, I'm sure they'll come to us if not us to them. But for now, we wait. And maybe get a little rest after this curious incounter..."  
And after that they went their ways.


	2. What is Truth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is Emily's chapter. She finally learns what she wants to know about Nixon, and there's no going back.

Dim moonlight filtered through the White House window, scattered in shards across the birchwood floor. A dark shadow blocked out a few of the rays, as Emily slouched on the windowsill, staring out the frosted glass panes. Her Hubert Humphrey shirt hung loosely on her shoulders, doing anything but keeping her warm in the old, drafty room. Dew drops were frozen on the January winter's night, all still. Silent. But nothing was silent about her thoughts, whirling around in her head like a hurricane. Why was she not satisfied? She, only hours ago, possibly even less, realised a grand truth about the white House's walls. She had met ghosts for God's sake. Ghosts! She fulfilled her deepest desire to finally tell Richard Nixon to go away, she gave a speech to some of the most famous leaders in the world! What was missing?! What more could she possibly want in a nights adventures?  
A familiar cool breeze reminded her. Of course. Just because she knew of the ghost's existence didn't mean she knew the ghosts. And no ghost was more shrouded in mystery than-  
"Richard Nixon," Emily turned her head to address the ghost behind her, who seemed startled at her sudden movement, but quickly composed himself to hush her up, "Be quiet girl! Washington can't know I'm here! He'd never let me outside my room again!" If ghosts could sweat, Emily imagined that's what he'd be doing right then and there.   
He floated into the space next to Emily and traced lines on the clouded up windows. Sitting silently, thoughts whizzing about his mind just as much as Emily, if he even had a brain as a ghost.  
Who knows.  
That's what Emily hated. Not knowing. She never hated Nixon, quite the opposite, but she never knew why. Why did he lie to his people? Why did he commit all his scandals if all he'd do afterwards is become a paranoid mess about it? She stared intently at Nixon, trying to decipher his face. It was so tired, so worn out. It had been through so much, not just the downfall, but with the knowledge that he was the cause of it. Thick lines dominated his forehead. Deep, dark bags hung under his eyes, exemplified by the shadows of midnight. His joules sagged down low, making his mouth an almost permanent frown. It was a sad, defeated sight. Emily hated it. She hated how his stupid mistakes made him who he was. How he will be judged forever by those stupid mistakes no matter what. Everyone hated Nixon, but Emily hated his mistakes.  
"Hubert, huh?" Nixon's gravelly voice cut the thick silence and nearly gave Emily a heart attack, "He was a good opponent. Honest, yet caring. I never felt pity for him when he was alive, of course. I was drunk on power and pride. Thought he was just another spineless liberal. But I've looked back and he was a good man. I hope I didn't hurt him like Kennedy hurt me with that loss." He sighed, pausing to hear faint laughter from the rooftop, that was unmistakably Bea, Bobby Kennedy and John F. Kennedy, "after I died and came here, I fixed my relationship with John. We developed a mutual respect for each other. I never quite got along with his brother Bobby though. He doesn't speak much, but you can feel his judging eyes on you. It's so heavy, heavier than the world's judgment. It's harsh, but I can't blame him. He protects his brother at every cost and he still sees me as a threat."  
He turned to Emily, facing her at last. Strings of moonlight fell through his face, reflecting out dark rainbows like a dirty glass prism. His black eyes seemed to retreat far into his skull, sunken in, as if the crimson veins at the corner of his eye were roots that dug deep into his brain. He was ugly. Ugly as hell. But there was a pull about him, like pure sympathy alone was forcing Emily to stay fixated to his eyes. Eyes she only saw on grainy video clips on YouTube seemed far too real. She questioned if he was actually there, that he was maybe just a figment of her imagination. A dream, possibly. He couldn't be real. He couldn't. For Emily, to believe he was really there, was harder than figuring out that puzzle of a face.  
There was only one way to find out.  
She reached out, her hand shaking. It was a mix of disbelief, fear and curiosity, really. She could see Nixon visibly flinch, it almost made her retract her hand, yet she kept going. Because she needed to be sure. She hadn't been sure about this man once in her life, and now here he was, out of the blue, here and only too real. She hated not knowing, but finally she will know. Finally she had an opportunity to know.  
Cold.  
Her hand landed on his cheek, it felt strange. It was freezing cold, yet she could still feel like there was flesh, with boiling hot blood pumping all around the body. It was as if it used to be there, Like a faint memory lost far into the dusty shelves of time.  
Then it fell.  
Emily's hand fell straight through Nixon's joules onto the condensated glass. It was cold to the touch, but it didn't feel nearly half as cold as his gaze, piercing Emily's living heart. Messing with her mind, as a hypnotist would.  
"You can't touch a ghost without their permission." He stated. Emotionless, yet she could hear every emotion screaming in his eyes.  
So what was that second he did let her touch him? A small crack in the thick concrete walls of his mind?  
A brief moment of compassion?  
Or a brief moment of weakness.  
Emily didn't get a chance to look into Nixon's eyes when holding his face in her hand, she had been far too focused on the clashing sensations happening on her fingertips, but she could already tell he hadn't let his guard down like that in a long time.  
"Poppy, Bea or Emily?"  
Her eyes darted back to Nixon, "E-excuse me?"  
"I heard in the attorney general office's meeting that you were called Poppy, Bea and Emily. Which one are you?"  
"I- I'm Emily..." Just as she thought the shock of the ghosts was starting to wear off, she'd be blown away all over again by Richard Nixon just asking for her name.  
"Emily."  
Just hearing him say her name sent slightly uncomfortable shivers down her spine.  
"I know this modern world despises me, so I wasn't surprised that Poppy and Bea didn't have the shiniest opinion of me, but you, you're different."  
Different. Did she really stand out to him?  
"We didn't have the most friendly introduction, but it didn't feel like judgment when you spoke to me. It felt like, sympathy..."  
Sympathy. Towards him or his actions?  
"I've been pondering the question ever since you first opened your mouth. Do you hate me, or do you like me?"  
Hate him? Never, but like him? She wasn't sure. But now she can be sure. She can finally have her say.  
"Neither."  
Nixon furrowed his eyebrows in worried confusion, "n-neither?"  
"Neither. You have always fascinated me, Mr Nixon," Emily was terrified, it didn't show in her voice, but how Nixon stared her down, begging for answers from her was nearly enough for her to break out into fits of sobs. She had to remain calm though, because she needed those answers, "you committed those crimes, scandals, lies but deep down you knew you couldn't keep them covered forever. Even if the public never found out, you would've buckled under the pressure of the paranoia. Why do it if you only knew bad would come of it? I like you, Mr Nixon, but I can't keep defending you until I have answers."   
What the hell was she doing? Why is she acting so authoritarian over him? Is her hunger for truth really that deeply entrenched in her consistence that she became a totally new person when seeking them? She felt weak, ready to just fall into his arms and cry, if he'd even catch her. She didn't want to scare him. She didn't want to contribute to his crippling paranoia. She didn't want to give the wrong impression. She wanted him to be comfortable, but she also wants answers.  
Is that so much to ask?  
"I was a completely different man back then. During the campaign, I didn't want a repeat of 1960. I still remember how the results of that election crushed my spirit and good health. I craved the affection of the public so dearly. I needed someone, something to fill the hole 1960 tore within me. I didn't want those boys to suffer in Vietnam. I knew the horrors of war. But I wasn't thinking about them, I was thinking about winning. I thought I was up against another JFK in that election, and I needed ever scrap of sympathy I could scrape up in order to win. Vietnam just seemed the best way. I say 'stop the fighting in Vietnam!' Everyone loves me. I become president and stop the war. My popularity soars above John's and be up there with the greatest of war presidents. Then I needed another plan. I needed to be re-elected. Vietnam's over so I can't use that excuse. I craved their approval Emily, I craved the acceptance and love that was showered on John every day of his presidency. I needed the opponent to look bad. Goddamnit deep in my soul I knew it was bad and I should'nt've done it, but here I am, desperate and convinced everyone hated me. Yes I committed scandals and I got caught. It destroyed me. I could barely go out in public anymore. All I had was Pat, and the weight of my sins dragging me down. That's how I lived Emily. I did it. And I will never deny my mistakes. I did it for many reasons. Paranoia. Power. Pride. Revenge. Love..." His eyes were quivering, glossed over with tears he was fighting so hard to keep back. He pursed his lips in a vain attempt to choke the sobs away, but it was clear he couldn't hold on much longer, "E-Emily... y-y-you're the first person since J-J-John to forgive me. To look p-past the mistakes and to focus-s on the g-good... the... f-first... oh god Emily." Tears flowed out his eyes, the red veins bulged in his eye socket, sobs lurched up his throat. He stuffed his hands in his face, in a last ditch attempt to desperately hide his emotion. He hated giving out so much of himself to someone he only just met, but he felt like he could trust her. Out of everyone he has ever met, he only met two who he didn't feel judgement from, Pat and Emily. They didn't judge, or scorn, or screw him over. He felt comfortable with her, he felt he could give her the answers he barely even knew.  
Jesus, it felt like so much to ask for.  
Emily couldn't stand seeing Nixon in such a state. Her bottled-up emotions spilled out too, as her quiet tears broke out into fits of crying. She wanted to stop. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted the Poppy and Bea to not overhear and get worried.   
But sometimes you don't get everything you want.  
"W-" Nixon forced out after being able to finally control his tears, "why? Why d-do you l-like me? Why n-not another b-b-better president like W-washington or Lincoln? What is it a-about me?"  
Emily looked up, eyes a puffy crimson with salty tears falling down her fiery red cheeks. She dragged her arms across her face, the soft fabric of her t-shirt cleaning herself up. What was it about him she was drawn to? And, even after seeing him in such a way her opinion has in no way wavered? It was the one question she had left. She knew now what Nixon wanted, how he suffered, what drove him. But she never knew what drew HER to HIM.  
But then it hit her.  
"Because I know you."  
"K-know me?"  
"I know you. All I know about Lincoln is how he freed the slaves and that's it. All I know about Washington is that he declared independence from the UK and that's it. You aren't some mystical, almost god like figure everyone loves and adores. You are human and portrayed as one. You tried your hardest and worked your way up. A rise to the top who made sacrifices and mistakes along the way. Do you hear of Washington's mistakes defining his presidency? Never. You made mistakes. Huge ones. It haunted you for the rest of your life, a permanent poltergeist trapped in your mind, tearing your last thoughts apart, if you even have a brain anymore. You were a victim, but also an oppressor. Good guy turned bad turned good. Everyone hates you Nixon, but I hate your mistakes. You could've been great, if you only stopped worrying. I like you, because I see you in me. Maybe, if I stop worrying about what I can't do, I seize the opportunities with what I can do. Your mistakes, as much as I hate them, guide me. I've learnt how to open up, take advice, give advice, live my life. You gave me hope that you don't need to be perfect to achieve greatly. And that's why I like you Mr Nixon, because you're not perfect."  
A weak smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had never been complemented like that before, the feeling was overwhelming, but he was tired. He practically cried himself to exhaustion, and really needed some rest. Emily offered her hand to help him up, but he refused.  
Maybe another time... Emily thought to herself.  
"I should be getting back to bed, if Washington caught me up so late, even worse bawling my eyes out in front of a guest who's also crying I'd never be let out of his sight again," He gave himself a half chuckle at his own joke, he really needed some laughter after that.  
"I guess... I'll see you later Emily..."  
"I guess so, goodnight Mr Nixon."  
"Please Emily, call me Dick."  
She suppressed a wide grin as he told her that. It was nice to finally have a sense of clarity in their relationship. Had she won his trust? Far from it. But maybe, just maybe, she had chipped away a bit more at that concrete wall, and she will finally learn what is truth.  
"Goodnight Dick."  
"Goodnight Emily."  
And with the whisp of the wind he was gone

**Author's Note:**

> I will be doing more 3 more chapters going more in depth with the relationships between the protagonists and presidents because who can be bothered with writing everything in on chapter.


End file.
